


Wing Trouble

by the_pen_is_mightier



Series: Family Omens [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Gen, Kidfic, Soft Aziraphale, They love each other, Wings, crowley is soft with kids, fluff and some angst, soft Crowley, they love their daughter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:08:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22312243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_pen_is_mightier/pseuds/the_pen_is_mightier
Summary: Crowley and Aziraphale’s daughter draws unwanted attention at school. What kind of six-year-old has wings?
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Family Omens [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1592314
Comments: 20
Kudos: 84





	Wing Trouble

“Daddy?” 

Crowley glanced into the Bentley’s rearview mirror. Eden was nestled in the back seat, unusually comfortable for a six-year-old in a car pushing eighty miles per hour; she was well used to Crowley’s driving, and would have loved to sit in the front seat if Aziraphale would allow it. Her hair, flame-red and wildly curly, had been painstakingly tamed into a braid for school.

He didn’t look back at the road. “Yeah?”

Eden played with the end of her braid, her eyes shifting. “Am I a freak?”

His fingers tightened on the steering wheel. “What do you mean?”

“Am I different from other people?” 

Ah, well, that was a question he and Aziraphale had been preparing to answer for a while now, wasn’t it? They’d talked about it, late at night, after putting Eden to bed - she knew the two of them weren’t human, she knew she wasn’t human, but how could she be expected to understand that, based on practically every belief system around, it shouldn’t be possible for her to exist? At least angels and demons existed in popular mythology. They’d been thinking it over carefully, how they wanted to explain things to her, how they could make it make sense to her.

But Crowley had been gearing up to have that conversation with Aziraphale present. And not through the rearview mirror of a dangerously speeding vehicle.

“Why…” Crowley examined Eden’s eyes. “Why are you asking?”

“Sometimes kids at school look at me funny.” She chewed on her bottom lip. “Sometimes I think they don’t want to play with me.” 

“Anyone looks at you funny, I’ll kick their arse,” said Crowley forcefully. “Just give me names and addresses.”

Eden giggled. Her laugh hadn’t changed since she was a toddler; it was the same bubbling sound, like a stream or a fountain. “You _won’t._ ”

Crowley scowled at her as he sped around a bend. She knew him too well; after six thousand years he was still able to convince Aziraphale he was dangerous, but Eden saw right through his posturing. She made a face back at him in the mirror. 

“I’m serious, though,” he said, pushing up his sunglasses to show his sincerity. “If kids are mean to you, Papa and I can deal with it.”

“It’s not that they’re mean.” Eden turned to look out the window, unperturbed by Crowley’s continued speeding as he wove haphazardly through a jam of cars and blew past a red light. She appeared to be struggling to decide what she meant. “It’s like… it’s like they’re scared of me.” 

Crowley’s stomach clenched. Aziraphale or no, he knew exactly what that was like. He slammed on his brakes as they pulled into a parking spot in front of the school. He climbed out of the Bentley’s driver side and went to help Eden down to the sidewalk. When she was on her feet, he knelt down and took her hands. 

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” he said firmly. His sunglasses were still pushed onto the top of his head. “They’ve got no reason to be scared. Don’t - don’t let them -” damn it, Aziraphale was better at words than he was. “Don’t think any different.” 

Eden stared down at his hands for a moment. Then she leaned forward and hugged him. Crowley’s heart contracted, as it always did. 

“Love you, potted plant,” he said as she released him. 

She smiled. That smile was pure Aziraphale. “Love you too.” 

_____

They had no reason to be scared. Eden told herself that as she marched out onto the playground. They’d just never seen a half-demon half-angel before. Maybe they’d never seen any angels or demons, or maybe the grown-ups were just better at blending in. 

Those girls, over there, were playing on the swings. She would go ask to join them. 

Papa and Daddy had asked her whether she wanted to go to school. At the time it had seemed like the obvious thing to say yes - she wanted to be with people her own age, wanted to play games and read picture books and put her name - _Eden Crowley-Fell_ \- up on a bulletin board with her class. But she hadn’t thought of the ways she might stand out. With Papa and Daddy she’d always fit exactly in the center of everything. 

“Hi,” she ventured, when she reached the swings. 

The girls looked up at her with round eyes. Eden tried hard to appear confident. They had nothing to be scared of. She was just like them - she liked to eat cupcakes and sometimes drew her S backwards and got woodchips in her hair when she was outside for too long.

“Hi, Eden,” said one of them, at last.

Eden summoned up the remains of her courage. “Can I be your friend?” 

The girls looked at each other. Eden crossed her fingers behind her back. She didn’t yet know how to work miracles - Papa said she would probably gain the ability someday - but she liked to imagine Someone listened to her pleas. 

“We could play games,” she tried, eagerness slipping into her voice. “I know a fun game you can play on a swing. D’you want to see?”

“Okay,” said the second girl, sounding nervous. 

Eden scrambled onto the third swing and began kicking her legs. “You have to get yourself moving on the swing, back and forth -” she swung backward and forward, gaining momentum as she went - “and get higher and higher, like this!” Her voice rose as she lifted her head skyward. 

She barely heard the response from down below. “What is she doing?” 

“Watch!” she shouted. In summers at the cottage in the South Downs she would play this game with Papa, who had hung a swing for her from the branch of a large tree. He would push her, sending her soaring up to what felt like unimaginable heights, and then, when the moment was right, she’d launch herself into space, toward Daddy who hovered in the air to catch her. 

Eden shut her eyes for a moment, and imagined she was there. She was just like these people, she liked to have fun. She wasn’t scary. She left the swing behind her as she hurtled up into the empty air.

Someone screamed below her, but she could feel the excitement heating up behind her shoulders, and in another moment wings - bright silver, a gleaming mix of both her fathers - popped into being and sent her gliding back to the ground. 

When she landed and looked up, panting, a gaggle of six-year-olds was staring openmouthed at her. 

“What do you think?” she said. Her heart pounded as she scrambled toward them again, beaming. “Isn’t it cool? You can -”

“She has _wings!_ ” 

A boy was pointing at her, looking terrified. Hastily she straightened up and tucked the wings away; oh, she’d forgotten human children didn’t have wings. Fears raced back into her mind to dissipate the excitement; they were looking at her that way again, confused and scared and drawing back like she was _different_ -

“Sorry,” she said. “Sorry, I - I forgot to - you don’t need to have wings to play the game, you can -”

But they weren’t speaking, and the thought that she’d ruined everything was locked in her mind now, and she couldn’t get words to come. Her mouth opened and shut and opened and shut and they were all staring and suddenly she wanted to cry. 

“She’s crying!” called someone. “Go and get someone!”

Eden couldn’t tell who it was who had spoken. Her eyes were blurring. She buried her face in her hands, and all she heard was running footsteps.

She couldn’t control when her wings came out. They appeared on their own, uncalled, when she felt any emotion too strongly. It hadn’t mattered with Papa and Daddy, they both had wings too, there was nothing unusual about it. In the bookshop, or in the cottage in the South Downs, it hadn’t mattered. 

They were going to bring a grown-up here to try to stop her crying. She didn’t want to go. She didn’t want the grown-ups looking at her funny too. She didn’t want humans to be scared of her. She felt the wings manifest again, and this time she barely controlled them as they rocketed her up, up, to the top of the tallest slide, where she perched, wings spread, with her head between her knees. 

_____

Crowley’s text arrived five minutes before Crowley did. _Eden’s acting quiet. She says something bad happened at school._

Aziraphale considered shooting back a text to the effect of _stop texting and driving with a six-year-old in the backseat,_ but he thought shouting at a brick wall might be a more productive use of his time. He waited for them instead, settled in his armchair in the backroom with the bookshop closed to customers. He tried not to speculate on disaster scenarios. What was the worst thing that could have happened to Eden at school? If she’d broken her leg or something, Crowley would have said so.

When Crowley pushed open the door, Aziraphale rose to meet them. He kissed Crowley, quickly and gently, a greeting and a reassurance. Then he turned to Eden. 

“Daddy told me something happened to you at school,” he said. 

Eden stared at the floor. Her hands were clasped tight behind her back. “I… I showed the class my wings.” 

Aziraphale breathed an internal sigh. There were far worse things he’d imagined. “What did they say?”

“They stared at me.” Eden sniffed. “I started crying. Then they went to get the teacher and I flew away. I -” she wiped her nose on her sleeve. “I flew up to the top of the slide and wouldn’t get down. The teacher said she was going to call you.” 

Aziraphale glanced up at Crowley. That call would probably be coming soon; he communicated to Crowley, with nothing but a glance, that he would handle it when it came. 

“Well,” he said, “I’ll bet you gave them a fright, but I’m sure no harm was done. Just a silly accident. Their parents most likely won’t believe them, so it won’t be anything -”

“Aziraphale,” said Crowley.

He looked up again. There was a look in Crowley’s eyes, a kind of sudden vulnerability, that made him fall silent. He recognized it; it was the same look he’d given Aziraphale the night he’d made that half-drunken confession. The summer the world had nearly come to an end, more than six years ago now. And yet Aziraphale remembered that look like it was yesterday. 

He sat back on his heels and examined Eden again. Tears were brimming in her eyes.

“Darling,” he said, “what is it?”

“They won’t want to be my friends now,” she said, her voice nearly inaudible. “I proved I’m a freak.” 

And there it was. And was nothing to do, in response to that, other than what he’d done with Crowley that night. He didn’t try to imagine what she felt; even as another celestial being among humans, the feeling of being young and exiled was one Crowley understood far better than him. He only opened his arms, and she fell into them, her hands clutching at his waistcoat, tightening around his middle. 

“There, there,” he murmured. “I’ve got you.” 

Crowley was on her other side, a hand on her back. “Sometimes people are idiots. When they see something new they panic. They get scared just because they don’t understand it. It’s nothing to do with you.”

“What am I going to do, if the whole class hates me?” 

“If they hate you, they’re a bunch of wankers,” said Crowley. 

Aziraphale threw him a glare before pulling back from Eden to look at her. “I don’t think they’ll hate you.” 

Eden looked away. “I’m different from them.”

“In some ways. And the same in others.” Aziraphale squeezed her hand. “I bet plenty of them would love to have wings. I’ll bet when they’ve had some time to think about it, they’ll realize you’re lucky.” 

She was silent. She stared down at her hands as though determined to read a solution out on them. 

“Or,” said Crowley, “if you’re through doubting me, I can kick a few arses tonight.” 

That got the tiniest of smiles out of her. Aziraphale wrapped her again in his arms, and tried to will as much Heavenly presence into her as she could. Crowley kissed the top of her head and stroked her hair as her breaths calmed again. 

Aziraphale had been nervous about sending her to school. He knew well enough what peers could be like, and he’d wanted Eden somewhere he could keep her safe - Someone knew he’d never let Crowley out of his sight again, after seeing Hell nearly destroy him with holy water. He’d wanted Eden to stay forever in the bookshop and in the South Downs, where they wouldn’t need anyone else. But they were humans now even though they weren’t, and Eden was human even though she wasn’t, and humans, as it turned out, needed each other. 

_____

Eden went to school the next day with her head held high.

The boy who had pointed at her yesterday approached her on the playground. She was climbing the monkey bars when he appeared in front of her.

“My name’s Dylan,” he said. 

Eden smiled at him nervously. “Hi, Dylan.”

“I didn’t mean to scare you yesterday.” He held out his hand, tentative, but not fearful. “I’m sorry if I did. I didn’t know you had wings, that’s all.” 

She remembered Papa and Daddy, and didn’t try to retreat. “It’s nice to have wings. It’s fun to be able to fly.”

“I’ll bet it is.” Dylan looked wistful. “Does your whole family have them?” 

“Mm-hm.” Eden felt excitement creeping back through her. “Wanna know a secret about them?” 

His eyes widened. “Are they angels?”

“One of them.” She leaned forward, grinning. “My papa is, but he’s not in Heaven anymore because he fell in love with my daddy. And you’ll never guess what _he_ is.” 

_____

The teacher watched them from the edge of the field. She watched as Eden struck up a game with a group of boys and girls, as they began to chase each other through the playground; she chastened them, at one point, for running too fast. She admonished Eden to be careful when she lifted off the ground by mistake.

One of her students had wings. She could remember, well enough, when she’d called the residence of her father’s yesterday afternoon; she’d been half convinced she was going mad, and yet she couldn’t get the image out of her head - one of her students flying, yes, _flying_ away from her and perching on top of the slide. 

“Your daughter has wings,” she’d said, barely comprehending her own words. “She has wings. I don’t understand. I must be losing my mind. I -”

“I can assure you,” Mr. Fell had said, his voice firm and calming over the phone, “that you are not losing your mind.”

“But - but Mr. Fell, your daughter -”

“I am perfectly aware that my daughter has wings.”

She’d been unsure how to respond to this declaration. She’d stood in silence for a moment, trying to pick up a coherent thread of the conversation to continue.

“I hope you’ll see to it,” said Mr. Fell, just as calmly as before, “that no students are unkind to her because of this unusual feature. It’s something that runs in her family, and there’s no need for anyone to kick up a fuss.”

“Quite,” the teacher had heard herself saying. “Yes, quite right.”

“Eden is a well-behaved child. She won’t cause any trouble with her wings.” 

“No, I suppose not,” she'd said numbly. 

“Very well.” She’d heard a little _hmm_ of satisfaction. “So then, you’ll hang up this phone, and be sure to make a note not to go shouting around about my daughter’s wings, and you’ll be in an inexplicably excellent mood all evening. How does that sound?”

“It sounds lovely,” she’d said, and found herself smiling, though she didn’t know why. 

One of her students had wings. The teacher was willing to take it in stride. Really, Eden seemed like quite a nice child anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> Like my work? Find me on tumblr @[whatawriterwields](https://whatawriterwields.tumblr.com)!


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